


Swedes and Swedes in the Nightless Night

by Kiertorata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 00:23:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20461976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiertorata/pseuds/Kiertorata
Summary: Gilderoy is chasing his latest adventure when someone almost compromises his plans.





	Swedes and Swedes in the Nightless Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Toodleoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toodleoo/gifts).

> So, the challenge was to include both swedes (the root vegetable) and Swedes (the people) in a story. I think I managed to deliver!

Gilderoy’s excellent collection of books was about to be extended by another instalment. He had a knack for this kind of thing, being able to sniff a story out like a hungry hound a quivering hare. He had been chasing after this particular story for a little over a week and tonight he had finally found the pot of gold. He had overheard a conversation in the lobby, and while it had been in Swedish, there had been one word he had been able to understand.

Trolls weren’t interesting on their own, but an overgrown, violent, Swedish mountain troll and a good story - well that was something.

He had managed to infiltrate his way into a group of Swedish men – _Swedes_ he supposed they were called? – celebrating midsummer at a cosy countryside hotel.

It was a simple enough task; they weren't wizards and would be unlikely to notice anything. He’d just need to get them relaxed enough to hear the details about the troll. But it still did well to be careful. A little _Obliviate_ here and there never did anyone harm.

He ran into his first problem quite soon. The sauna, the place where men valiantly struggled through the excruciating heat to show other men their worth, was also a place where he couldn’t take his wand.

Reluctantly, he left his wand in the locker rooms amongst his other possessions and followed the group he had been tailing outside. He averted his gaze in good spirit as a flock of naked men and a few women walked past him across the patio into the sauna.

Liberal, these Scandinavians, he thought. He scanned the nearest Swedish beauty quickly with his eyes as he followed her into the sauna – it wouldn’t do to be _too_ prudish.

The sauna turned out to be rather more comfortable than what he’d expected. Apparently, Swedes preferred a mild, comforting 50 degrees.

His instinct still told him that leaving early would be the same as losing his story. And of course, his English ego that was used to the bone-chilling dampness of badly built houses didn’t mind a bit of a challenge in pleasant warmth. He’d stay until the very end and prove his worth.

It turned out to be less of a challenge than he thought. Most of his “friends” left after a while, and he was left sitting alone on the warm planks.

Almost alone.

A lonesome man remained in the corner grunting and started to throw some water like his life depended on it after the last of Gilderoy’s new friends left. Gilderoy sat and suffered; the sweat stung his eyes and his reproductive abilities very likely took a toll on them.

Just as Gilderoy was about to discover that his delicate skin wasn’t by any means made to endure temperatures over 90, the man cast him a challenging look and said, ‘Swedes. Weak. When Finnish man go to sauna, over hundred degrees.’

Gilderoy gave him a polite nod and decided now was the moment to excuse himself. One had to choose one's battles, after all, and trying to one up a grown Finnish bog troll wasn't his priority when it was the Swedes he was after.

Later, soothed by a watery beer, he placed himself by the loudest and jauntiest of the Swedes, eager to get to the story.

Refreshments were served: some kind of disgusting fish (fermented, by the smell of it) and salmon served on a bed of roasted summer potatoes and swedes. Nice and flavourless, just like British cuisine. (‘Swedes eating swedes,’ Gilderoy thought with a snort of delight, and decided he would have to include it in the book somehow.)

His wand was still tucked away in the pocket of his jacket in the changing rooms, but he wasn’t overly concerned. The Swedes were getting increasingly talkative, most of it of course in Swedish. Now, he’d only have to direct his best polite, English questions with a spot of banter at them and they would be charmed to no end. In the best case, he wouldn’t have to obliviate them at all.

‘The English always enjoy a good mythology. I hear there are a lot of legends of trolls around here,’ he started. ‘Of course, there was quite the troll in the sauna, I dare say. Finnish, I heard he was…’

The men closest to him snickered, clearly pleased by his jab at their neighbors.

‘You did talk about a troll earlier, I believe, in the lobby. I couldn’t mind overhearing. You see, I’m a story collector—’

‘You should watch the Moomins then,’ the man said, ‘if you like stories about trolls.’

He and his friends laughed again, and Gilderoy was pretty sure he heard someone say the word ‘moomintroll’, whatever the hell that was.

As nice as this nightless night in picturesque scenery was, Gilderoy was getting frustrated. He wasn’t getting anywhere with his story. He decided now was the time for some stronger measures. Perhaps a nice _Legilimens_ followed by _Obliviate_ was in order.

He excused himself and went to fetch his wand from the locker rooms.

When Gilderoy returned with his wand stashed in the pocket of his bathrobe, he stopped in his tracks. Someone had joined their little circle during the minute he’d disappeared.

Wrapped in a lime-green bathrobe, she sat cross-legged on the bench opposite his seat. Her blonde curls framed her attractive face and jewelled spectacles. She tapped her wand against her bare leg. Her eyes were fixed on Gilderoy with uncontained glee.

Gilderoy pulled out his wand.

‘What is that?’ one of the men near him said.

‘Oh, just a large toothpick,’ Gilderoy said quickly. ‘All Englishmen carry them around.’

He heard someone say something that, based on the snickers, was probably a joke about how bad teeth all the British had, and he almost wanted to turn around to demonstrate his perfect row of glossy, white teeth that he had, thank you very much, taken care not to destroy with excessive tea drinking. (That visit to American dental Healers during his expedition through Utah may have also played a part.)

Rita Skeeter had been after him for a while. Gilderoy couldn’t blame her. He was, after all, the hottest author and adventurer extraordinaire of the century.

But now decisions had to be made. No-one would miss _Prophet_’s most stylish reporter, would they?

_Yes, they would_, a voice inside him said. Rita had always been obnoxiously loud and visible, qualities which Gilderoy rather admired.

Obliviating her at a location that could be connected to him wasn’t an available option. Rita gave him a commanding look and nodded her head at the sauna. His thoughts going around his head in a feverish race, Gilderoy followed her.

‘I know what you’re about to do. I’ve been onto it for a while,’ she said once he sat down next to her. ‘What will it be? _Struggles in Sweden_? _Mountain Troll Madness_?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said. ‘I’m just here on a holiday.’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence, Gilderoy,’ she drawled. ‘I will get my story, if it means following you into the woods. I want exclusive rights to report the story before the book comes out,’ she said. She looked at him triumphantly.

‘Rita, Rita… You’re onto me, I admit it,’ he said, flashing Rita what could be described an apologetic smile. ‘I am about to embark on my next adventure, just as you said. Rumour is, there’s a rather ferocious mountain troll that has been giving locals trouble, and I thought I’d take care of it.’ He could have cried from relief that his secret was still safe.

Rita’s eyes glowed from excitement. ‘Gilderoy Lockhart versus a deadly, ferocious mountain troll. Beauty and the beast, battle of the light and dark. Who will win, my readers ask! Will this be the battle to finally quench that flawless smile?’

She waved her hands as she spoke, as if holding an invisible quill. Her bathrobe slipped a little in her excitement giving Gilderoy a unique view into her cleavage. It wasn’t a bad sight. He placed his hand on her thigh.

‘You understand, I could never have you following me,’ he said. ‘It’s dangerous, you understand, and my primary concern is keeping beautiful damsels such as yourself safe.’

Rita pouted her lips at him.

‘But, I’ll give you a private interview after it’s all over. Say, I’ll give you exclusive interview rights for a month,’ he said, feeling congenial. His next photoshoot with _Witch Weekly_ was still three months away.

‘Half a year,’ Rita demanded.

‘I’ll make it two months if you let me enjoy your beautiful company tonight. A hero needs his moment of peace sometimes.’

‘Gilderoy!’ Rita shrieked with delight. ‘Who is this mysterious man behind the bathrobe? I am simply burning with curiosity, and it’s not just the heat from the sauna…’

‘You know, Swedes don’t wear their bathrobes in the sauna,’ he said suggestively.


End file.
